<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Different Body by Riddle_Me_This_Darling</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26530030">A Different Body</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddle_Me_This_Darling/pseuds/Riddle_Me_This_Darling'>Riddle_Me_This_Darling</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Downton Abbey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Developing Friendships, Dubious Consent, Gender or Sex Swap, Multi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:34:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,976</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26530030</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddle_Me_This_Darling/pseuds/Riddle_Me_This_Darling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is in deep trouble. He had kissed Jimmy and severed their friendship, and his sexuality was exposed. Fearful and broken-hearted, he flees Downton, and is caught in a sudden, terrible storm. In desperation, he mistakenly begs to be changed...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thomas Barrow &amp; Jimmy Kent, Thomas Barrow/Original Character(s), Thomas Barrow/Original Male Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Cry to the Universe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I want to keep this story a short as possible because I don’t have a lot of time to write, but I’d like to take my time. Please bear with me if I take my time writing each of the chapters.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">It’s terrible to be an outcast, alone and unloved. To have your heart torn from your chest and ripped to shreds before your very eyes. Although Thomas had faced rejection and ostracization many times before, he never fallen so madly in love before. To have fallen for someone so wonderful. He truly believed that Jimmy returned his feelings and, in his delusion, believed that he finally had a chance of finding happiness in the arms of someone he adored. A chance to love and be loved, like everyone else.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">It was raining when Thomas ran from Downton Abbey and the sky had since turned grey, the clouds as dark ash and soot. He too felt extinguished, like a he was devoid of a flame.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">A sudden flash of lightning lit up the night sky, violently pushing its inverted limbs down to a nearby field on the horizon. Two seconds later, there a loud roar of thunder, and Thomas felt his heart skip a beat from fear. The storm was unforeseen, and perhaps some farmland would be damaged. The farmers had no time to prepare for this weather. Thomas stared up at the foreboding sky and wondered if it was his own sin that caused it. Was this punishment for his foul behaviour?</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">The voice of Carson, the butler, rang in his hears like a banshee’s shriek, “You should be horsewhipped!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Releasing a wail of despair, Thomas fell to his knees and beat his fists into the soggy earth below him as another strike of lightning ripped across the swirling, inky night.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Why am I like this?” He cried out in desperation. “Why am I the way I am?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Another boom of thunder rolled over the hills, and a forceful gust of window battered against Thomas, almost knocking him over.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He growled and screamed, “Is this punishment?” Looking up at the sky once more, he cried, “why didn’t you make me a normal man?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Yet another terrible crash of thunder came, quickly followed by a double bolt of purple lightning. All around Thomas, the grass, trees and rolling hills suddenly flashed brilliant white, only to be consumed by darkness a second later once the lightening passed. Whatever existed beyond the universe, be with one God or several; the creator was enraged.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Why didn’t you make me normal?” Thomas shouted with a hoarse, pained voice. “Or why didn’t you make me a </span>
  <span class="s3">woman?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">An icy chill ran down his spine, and he clung to his sides with all his might. A rush of wind circled him, whipping him with mud, sharp sticks and stones. He felt dizzy and nauseous. Something was happening to him. He tried to call out for help but no sound left his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Another terrible shock of white tore across the graphite sky, forking silently to the ground - the thunderous boom always calling its warning too late.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Thomas lost all sense of vision. He was falling...falling into a deep pit. Somewhere dark and cold.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He was gone.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Fear and Loathing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jimmy contemplates Thomas’s disappearance, and struggles with his feelings on the matter.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was a bitterly cold morning, and Jimmy shivered as he pulled his blanket tighter around his body. The frigid air from his open bedroom window penetrated his skin, chilling him to the bone. The change in weather suited the current circumstances: Thomas Barrow had vanished two nights ago, and nobody had seen head nor tail of him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">Although Jimmy felt disgust and anger bubble instead at him the mention of the missing under butler’s name, he also wrestled with a sense of impending doom. He didn’t care to admit it, but he was terribly anxious that it was his behaviour had caused Thomas to run from Downton. The scoundrel had kissed him, and Jimmy was certain he hadn’t encouraged such drastic behaviour. He sensed that Thomas was...abnormal, but they had been friends - nothing more. Mrs O’Brien encouraged him to befriend Thomas, and to tolerate the man’s touch and closeness. Jimmy never encouraged romance, however. He never encouraged flirtation. At least, that is what he told himself.</p>
<p class="p2">Staring out of the window, tight-lipped with a deep frown on his handsome face, Jimmy watched the clouds move across the morning sky, their appearance like strings of white candy floss to contrast against the blue sky. They drifted lazily in the cold breeze without destination or purpose, and the sight infuriated Jimmy.</p>
<p class="p2">“How can they be so casual?” He wondered, and silently cursed the clouds for being so carefree. “I’m in the shitter, Thomas has buggered off somewhere, and everyone’s worried.”</p>
<p class="p2">When Mr Carson informed Lord Grantham that Thomas was missing, the Lord adviser Carson to contact the authorities immediately. All of the family and staff were concerned, and rumours spread like wildfire in the village. A group of men were formed to search for Thomas, but they found no trace of him. Lady Grantham and Daisy were very upset for whatever reason, and it made Jimmy physically sick. The atmosphere in the house was somber and unnerving.</p>
<p class="p2">Sighing bitterly, Jimmy shook his head. Soon, the rest of the staff would awaken. He’d have to face Carson again, and, possibly, another interrogation from the butler. Mrs Hughes would look disappointed and sad. Miss O’Brien would grin smugly, and Alfred would be as nervous a wreck as Jimmy, suffering from his own bout of guilt. It was he who pushed Jimmy to report Thomas after he barged in and saw him kiss Jimmy. Daisy might cry again, Mrs Patmore would fuss. Ivy would be confused, and she’d taken to avoiding Jimmy, as though she knew he was somehow to blame.</p>
<p class="p2">Jimmy couldn’t bear to face any of them. He wished he too could disappear.</p>
<p class="p2">“Maybe I should?” He thought. “I could go to London, play the piano in a club. Earn my keep.”</p>
<p class="p2">It triggered a memory, and he remembered the night Thomas complimented his talent after Jimmy had played a song for his fellow servants. Thomas has squeezed his shoulder encouragingly, and his touch both warmed and chilled Jimmy. He had stiffened at the touch, but it was also a kind gesture. A gesture of friendship and affection. In the present, he felt a wave of nausea wash over him, and he felt the ghost of Thomas’s fingers on his shoulder.</p>
<p class="p2">Deep down, he hoped Thomas Barrow was safe. He may not like the man, but he’d hate to think he had come to any harm. Jimmy wouldn’t be able to cope if he learned something awful had happened. He hoped the older man had simply fled, and that he was hoping to try his luck elsewhere. He’d mentioned a cousin once, someone who lived abroad.</p>
<p class="p2">“Bloody hell,” Jimmy hissed. “Bloody fucking hell.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The story will begin to pick up in the next chapter. Thank you for reading!</p>
<p>Feedback is not only welcome, but encouraged.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Awakening</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Thomas awakens, and he has no idea what is to come.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>To my surprise, I was able to whip up this chapter very quickly. Much quicker than I expected.</p><p>The next chapter will be longer, I promise.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He was cold. Thomas was very, very cold.</span>
</p><p class="p3">His body was stiff, and he couldn’t move his limbs. Everything was dark which meant his eyes were likely to be closed. Or was he dead? Was his body to be frozen in this position forever? Alone, cold, abandoned somewhere unknown; somewhere dark.</p><p class="p3">Far away, he could hear something. A distant sound that seemed to be a human voice. There was pressure on his forehead which quickly moved to his neck. Light pressure, as though someone was pressing their fingers onto his body. The touch was almost tender.</p><p class="p3">“Lass?” Came a voice. It was louder now, and more distinct. The voice had a Yorkshire accent.</p><p class="p3">“Lass?” It repeated. “Can you hear me?”</p><p class="p3">Thomas blearily opened his eyes but quickly shut them when he was blinded by a brilliant white light. Shadows moved across his eyelids, and he shuffled slightly, feeling damp earth beneath him.</p><p class="p3">“Christ!” The mysterious voice cried. “Lass, are you alright? You need a doctor. You’re in bad shape, love. I’m going to take you up to the house. We’ll fetch the doctor!”</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Thomas cracked an eye open and saw the blurry figure of a man. He recognised the voice and the outline of broad shoulders. He knew this man. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I -“ he tried to speak but only a meek croak left his throat. It hurt to talk, and Thomas flinched from the pain. He felt very unwell.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">A heavy weight slid under his back, and another under his knees. In a swift motion, Thomas was carefully lifted from ground. He was being carried by the man.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“How can he lift me so easily?” Thomas wondered.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Then in the blink of an eye, everything went black.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I apologise for the first chapters being so short. Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Fog</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The family hear of their mysterious guest.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm not completely happy with this chapter but I can't agonise over it anymore, it's driving me mad.</p><p>Please bear with me while I write the next chapter. Hopefully, it will be better!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lord and Lady Grantham, and Lady Mary were taking tea in the library, overseen by Jimmy who was bored and terribly uncomfortable. His shoulders ached, and he had discreetly rolled them numerous times in an attempt to relieve his discomfort. The cosy warmth of the library with its array of brown wood, heavy leather books, and plush furniture added to Jimmy’s sleepiness, and if he didn’t remain alert, his eyes would surely close. Forcing his eyes to remain open, he tried his best to focus. Mr Crawley and Mr Branson were out visiting various farmers, Lady Edith was visiting Aunt Rosamund in London, and Lady Rose was in York with a group of friends. Jimmy wished the remaining family had better things to do because he wanted so badly to push Lady Mary off the luxurious red velvet sofa that was so inviting. He wanted to sprawl across it and sleep. It didn’t help that he found the scent of leather and paper soothing. If there was one thing he truly loathed about life in servitude, it was standing motionless for long periods of time while wealthy aristocrats lounged on their expensive furniture and made small talk over luxury tea. As gracious as the Crawley’s were compared to many other wealthy families, in moments such as this, their privilege left a bitter taste in Jimmy’s mouth. There was a multitude of other jobs he could be doing, but he must stand and wait, and wait…and wait…just in case one of the Crawley’s need him to refill their flimsy china cup.</p><p>He noticed, however, that Lady Grantham had stopped paying attention to her babbling husband and was frowning at something beyond the window. Glancing to the right, he saw what displeased her Ladyship. A blanket of heavy fog had wrapped itself around the house, creating a rather bleak outlook. Nothing else was visible, only a dense sheet of grey. It was a dismal sight, but the weather perfectly suited the current atmosphere within the house. There was still no sighting of the missing under butler, and everything felt topsy-turvy. Had Thomas been missing two days or week? Jimmy wasn’t certain anymore. It all felt very wrong, and the entire house seemed to agree as everyone was in poor spirits.</p><p>Lady Mary also noticed and raised a curious eyebrow, watching her mother over the brim of her dainty teacup as she took a sip.</p><p>“Mama, are you alright?” She asked in genuine concern.</p><p>Her mother sighed heavily, and replied, “Oh, I’m looking at the awful fog. Goodness, it’s come from nowhere! We had glorious sunshine one moment then suddenly, a terrible storm. Now, look! Fog. It’s rather depressing.”</p><p>“A part of me fears it could be a sign,” Mary muttered darkly as she carefully placed her teacup back onto its saucer. Her pale brow furrowed slightly, and her attractive mouth set into an anxious straight line.</p><p>“Now, Mary,” her father made to scold her, but he was interrupted by his wife.</p><p>“When is Edit due to return from London?” asked Lady Grantham, a note of panic creeping into her voice. “I hope she doesn’t get stuck at the train station. There could be a delay.”</p><p>“And what of Barrow?” added Lord Grantham. “Wherever the devil he is, I hope he’s not lost somewhere.”</p><p>At the mention of Thomas’s name, Jimmy stiffened. His heart began to pound, and he balled his fists to stop his arms from jerking suddenly. He felt a pang of guilt in his stomach and was overcome by an unpleasant wave of nausea.</p><p>Meanwhile, Lady Grantham stilled.</p><p>“Of course,” she said after a brief pause. “Barrow.”</p><p>“Mama, don’t fret. Edith will be perfectly fine. I should think the fog will suit her mood while she laments Mr Gregson.” Mary said flippantly, waving a dismissive hand. She was still prone to making rather callous comments about her sister. “But Barrow? What on earth happened to make him take off in the night?” She looked directly at her father, and asked sharply, “Did Carson mention anything strange?”</p><p>To everyone’s surprise, Lord Grantham, a man who usually spoke his mind, instead fumbled for an answer. Both Jimmy and Mary narrowed their eyes in suspicion, and anger bubbled inside Jimmy as he clenched his fists tighter, feeling a sharp nail dig into his palm. He assumed Mr Carson had told Lord Grantham about Thomas’s attempt to seduce him, but the ladies were unaware. It wouldn’t be decent to tell them. Utterly humiliated, he exhaled through his nose and glared at the wall opposite, ignoring the rising heat in his cheeks.</p><p>“Papa?” Mary prompted her father firmly, leaning forward in her chair. For some reason, she glanced in Jimmy’s direction, and he met her a piercing stare. It made him freeze on the spot as an icy cold fingertip ran down his spide, chilling him to the bone. He shuddered and hung his head.</p><p>“<em>What the hell do you know?”</em> He thought bitterly, so furious that he was ready to explode.</p><p>“Now isn’t the time,” Lord Grantham said in a low voice when suddenly, the library door opened, and a flustered Mr Carson appeared. He was slightly out of breath, and his face bright red, as though he had run up a mountain.</p><p>“Pardon the intrusion, my Lord,” he addressed Lord Grantham, “may I speak with you a moment? It’s a rather urgent matter.”</p><p>The Lord blinked at him and looked confusedly at his family before standing from his chair to see Carson outside. As the two men traipsed out of the library, Jimmy’s eyes were drawn to the small clock on the mantlepiece. It had stopped ticking. The hands were stuck at five to twelve, but it was well into the late afternoon.</p><p>“An urgent matter?” Mary parroted, fixing her mother with an expectant stare, only to receive a shrug in response. She then looked to a red-faced Jimmy and caught his eye once more, who quickly averted his gaze, swallowing thickly.</p><p>Lady Grantham turned to look at the door then back to her daughter.</p><p>“Do you suppose they’ve heard word about Barrow?” She whispered urgently.</p><p>Jimmy felt faintly sick.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Outside of the library, Carson and Lord Grantham stood opposite one another in a shadowy corner of the hallway. The closest light flickered, but neither noticed nor gave it a second thought. As the butler opened his mouth to speak, the light flickered again.</p><p>“Now Carson,” Lord Grantham spoke over him, “what is so urgent? Have you received word about Barrow?”</p><p>The butler’s broad, round shoulders were tense, and his face was still flushed pink. It was clear something of great irritation had interfered with what should have been a straightforward, calm afternoon, and Carson loathed fuss and disruption.</p><p>“No, my Lord. There is another matter at hand,” he said, quickly explaining, “one of the groundsmen discovered a young woman on the grounds. She was barely conscious, so he brought her to the house. We have telephoned for Dr Clarkson, and he is due to arrive within the hour.”</p><p>Lord Grantham’s eyebrows almost flew into his hairline, and he spluttered, “A – a young woman was found on the grounds? Is she one of the maids?”</p><p>Carson shook his head, answering earnestly, “No, she is not. Neither Mrs Hughes nor I recognise her. Anna also saw her and did not recognise her from the village.”</p><p>“Crikey!” whispered Lord Grantham, shaking his head.</p><p>“But what is most peculiar,” Carson began but was interrupted for a second time when Lord Grantham spoke over him.</p><p>The Lord asked, “Is she very young, Carson? Perhaps she’s run away from home.”</p><p>“She isn’t a child, my Lord,” replied the butler, who neatly folded his hands behind his back. “She is an adult, possibly around Anna’s age. However, what is most peculiar is,” and his words trailed off. Glancing around the hallway, he leaned closer to Lord Grantham and muttered, “this detail, you may want to keep to yourself, my Lord.”</p><p>Lord Grantham raised his eyebrows again and tilted his head curiously. He did not speak; instead, he waited for Carson to continue without comment. To his Lordship’s confusion, Carson’s face reddened further, this time from embarrassment. The butler leaned even closer, indicating for him to follow suit.</p><p>“She was found wearing men’s clothing,” Carson said quietly, stealing another quick glance around the hallway to make sure nobody was eavesdropping. “She arrived a footman’s livery.”</p><p>“What?” Lord Grantham snapped, taking a step back. He stared at the man in disbelief. “A woman was found wearing our livery? Carson, are you quite certain?”</p><p>“Indeed, my Lord.”</p><p>“<em>Our livery?</em>”</p><p>“Yes, my Lord.”</p><p>Lord Grantham fixed Carson with a firm stare and repeated, “I don’t mean to insult your intelligence, my good man, but are you quite sure she was wearing <em>our</em> livery?”</p><p>The butler was beginning to lose his patience, although he would never speak rudely to his Lordship. Pausing momentarily, he took a breath to steady his nerves and calmly replied, “I am most certain. Mrs Hughes and Anna agreed her clothing was familiar, and that she was dressed in a footman’s livery.”</p><p>Lord Grantham huffed and threw his arms out to the sides. Again, the light flickered but this time, the men noticed. They both turned to look at it, and bizarrely, it was as though the light was somehow staring back at them. Carson looked to his employer when suddenly, it flickered again.</p><p>“Just what we need,” Lord Grantham commented bitterly. “The electrics playing up!” He turned back to Carson and recounted the events described to him. “Anyway, a young woman turned up on your land. How on earth would a perfect stranger – a woman, for that matter – have found a footman’s uniform? <em>Our </em>footman’s uniform?”</p><p>“I thought the uniform appeared to have belonged to Mr Barrow,” Carson replied, somewhat hesitantly. “I have no proof, but it looks to be similar in size, and with Mr Barrow’s sudden disappearance… “</p><p>“A mysterious woman turns up at Downton wearing our livery,” Lord Grantham reiterated as he rubbed his chain. Confused beyond comprehension, he sighed heavily and said, “Carson, this is all very irregular.”</p><p>“Very,” the butler agreed. “The young woman is currently resting in Mrs Hughes office. She was given water, but lost consciousness before anyone could question her.”</p><p>Again, the light flickered, and Carson frowned in its direction as though his hard gaze would scare the lamp and force it to behave. Should the house lost electricity, there would be chaos. Candles would need to be dusted, distributed, and lit. The staff had enough to do now that an unknown, sick woman had turned up out of the blue, and they were a man down with Mr Barrow missing, who was one of the most efficient workers.</p><p>Lord Grantham, however, was now too engrossed in his thoughts to be phased by the flickering light as he pondered the situation at hand. Concerned for the stranger in his home, Lord Grantham sighed. Still rubbing his chin, he asked, “Is she in bad shape?”</p><p>The butler shook his head, and answered truthfully, “I’m not sure, my Lord, although she doesn’t seem to be injured. She has a temperature and is feverish, but otherwise appears unharmed.”</p><p>“Well, that’s a relief, at least,” the Lord said kindly. “I’ll inform Lady Grantham and Mary. They ought to be told that there is a stranger in the house. I’ll also speak to Tom and Rose when they arrive.”</p><p>“Very good, my Lord.”</p><p>Lord Grantham had a thought. He looked around distractedly, as though he was searching for something. He fidgeted, then looked to Carson and said, “If Dr Clarkson checks her over and she only needs rest, would it be too much strain on the staff if she remained here? I’d hate to burden the hospital and cost them one of their beds if the girl only needs rest. She could be placed in an empty room for the time being.”</p><p>“Who are you discussing?”</p><p>The men whipped around and to their shock, found Lady Grantham outside the library door, eyeing them with scepticism. Neither had heard the door open, and they both shifted awkwardly as if they were naughty schoolboys who had been caught misbehaving.</p><p>“What has happened?” She asked, walking towards them. “I know you pulled Lord Grantham aside for a private chat, Carson, but I didn’t expect to find the two of you huddled out here.”</p><p>“Uh,” Lord Grantham mumbled. “Darling, we have a strange matter on our hands.”</p><p>His wife frowned, and she repeated, “What happened?”</p><p>He hastily explained, “We have an unexpected visitor. A young woman was found on the grounds and appeared to have a fever, although she isn’t injured. She isn’t known to the staff and is currently resting in Mrs Hughes office until Dr Clarkson arrives. I just told Carson that if the doctor prescribes bed rest, perhaps she could remain here for a short while until we can learn her identity and whereabouts.”</p><p>Lady Grantham blinked three times as she processed the information but, to his Lordship’s relief, asked no questions. She was a gentle, elegant woman, she was also very understanding and intelligent, and tackled challenges headfirst.</p><p>“I don’t see why not,” she eventually replied calmly. “I’d hate to cast someone out in this weather, and Downton has housed the sick before. If she’s already here, then she should rest.” Turning her attention directly to the butler, she addressed him politely, “Carson, please place her in one of the guest rooms for the time being. Perhaps it might be best if she is taken to one of the rooms furthest from Mary and Rose?”</p><p>“If she doesn’t need to go to the hospital that is,” added Lord Grantham as the butler bowed to her Ladyship.</p><p>“Very good, my Lady,” said Carson.</p><p>“So, this woman is a stranger?” Lady Grantham asked worryingly, looking between the men. “A sick young woman, who, thankfully, is unharmed, but has turned up on our land?”</p><p>The butler nodded while her husband only shrugged his shoulders in response.</p><p>“It’s all very strange,” Carson said lowly. “However, I will speak to Mrs Hughes, who will prepare a room for her.”</p><p>“Very good,” Lord Grantham said faintly.</p><p>His wife cast him a concerned glance, and she thanked Carson for his dependability and his patience. The poor man so hated to be disturbed by unorthodox circumstances. Just before he took his leave, Carson turned to the Lord and Lady once more, and asked, “I don’t mean to question an order but are you quite certain that you would like the young woman to remain here?”</p><p>“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” replied Lord Grantham. “And I quite agree. I’d hate to turn someone away when they’ve been brought here.”</p><p>“Since she is unwell,” Lady Grantham interjected in a soft voice.</p><p>Carson nodded and, fearing he appeared unsympathetic and reluctant to obey orders, clarified, “I only ask because we don’t know the woman’s identity or her history. Mrs Hughes offered to remain with her for as long as possible to keep an eye on her.”</p><p>Lord Grantham nodded, and Lady Grantham replied sweetly, “Thank you, Carson. If she causes any trouble, then the matter can be reviewed.”</p><p>“Indeed,” Carson said with a bow.</p><p>As he departed, Lord and Lady Grantham turned to one another helplessly. Once again, the hallway light flickered, making them both jump in surprise. They felt drawn to it, and in the far-off distance, they heard a strange sound. It sounded melodic, like someone was singing, although the voice wasn’t quite human. It was too high and too ethereal. Transfixed, they each took another step towards the lamp until loud footsteps woke them from their trance.</p><p>Tom Branson rounded the corner, looking rather dishevelled. His hair was messier than when we left after breakfast, and his cheeks were rosy. As he ran a hand through his hair to tidy his appearance, he looked up and spotted the older couple.</p><p>“Oh, hello,” he greeted them cheerfully. “What awful weather! You would think it was winter.” He chortled, and merrily approached his in-laws with the intention to greet them properly until he noticed Lord and Lady Grantham’s pale faces. His smile faded, and he asked, “Has something happened?”</p><p>The couple were dazed, and Lady Grantham steadied herself by leaning a hand against the wall.</p><p>Lord Grantham composed himself quicker with a brisk headshake. He snorted, and sarcastically remarked, “When <em>doesn’t</em> something happen?”</p><p>“Oh dear,” Tom said sympathetically. “I’ve only been gone a couple of hours. Has there been some bad news? Is Mary alright? Or…oh god, don’t say its news about Mr Barrow? I didn’t care for him, I’ll admit, but it would be – “</p><p>“Nothing terrible,” Lady Grantham cut him off. “Come into the library so we can tell both you and Mary. When she returns, we’ll speak to Rose.”</p><p>“About what?”</p><p>“Tom,” said Lord Grantham, leading the way towards the library. “We have a guest.”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Hours passed, and the afternoon faded into night. There was nothing but stillness. Dusk arrived as a silence visitor, barely noticed by the Crawley’s and their staff. There had been no sun to track across the horizon. No breeze to stir the grass or the leaves. No clouds drifted in the sea of blue above. Not a sound could be heard as everything had stopped. The clocks had all ceased their ticking. Lady Rose panicked when her beloved gramophone wouldn’t work. Jimmy tried to play the piano, something sombre and slow, but the keys made no sound. Daisy wept silently, and Mrs Patmore didn’t have the heart to scold her as she knew her tears were not for the loss of music, but for the loss of a man.</p><p>The lights in the house still flickered. Every so often, they would blink, and even Mary was afraid.</p><p>“<em>Something strange is happening,”</em> she had warned her family at dinner. “<em>I think that woman needs to be sent away.”</em></p><p>“<em>Oh, Mary!”</em> Her mother had scolded her. <em>“It’s the weather, I’m sure.”</em></p><p>Upstairs in his attic room, Jimmy stared out of his bedroom window. He never used to. He only began to do this once Thomas Barrow disappeared. He wasn’t searching for a sign of the man, that was for sure. He was simply drawn to his window for the first time. Outside, the trees were mostly veiled by the heavy mist, their trunks a black silhouette against the grey backdrop. It was hopeless, so he crawled into bed and wrapped his blankets tightly around himself. Closing his eyes, he curled in on himself and vowed to close his curtains the next night.</p><p> </p><p>The bleak, dense fog that shrouded Downton Abbey did not lift until the stroke of midnight, just as a tired young man finally opened his eyes. There was a loud pang, and the man leapt up in fright. There had been nothing but silence, and now there was a chime. Desperately searching the room, his gaze soon fell on a small clock that sat contently on a large fireplace opposite the very large bed he had been sleeping on. His vision was slightly hazy, but he recognised it. He recognised the room, in fact. He knew this room. Dizziness washed over him, and he stumbled backwards where his hip bumped against the sharp corner of a white side table. The blue lamp that stood on top of it rattled, and he reached out a hand to steady it.</p><p>But it wasn’t his hand that touched the lamp.</p><p>It was too small. The fingers were too slim. There were no hairs on its delicate wrist. The fingernails were too long and were shaped like a woman’s nails.</p><p>“Lady Mary?” Thomas asked, and he looked around for her.</p><p>There was nobody in the room. A sharp pain ran through the nerves in his brain, and Thomas cried out, pressing a hand onto his forehead to dull the pain. It didn’t help, so he fell back onto the bed and lay still, breathing heavily. He felt very sick.</p><p>“Ow,” he cried softly. His voice was different, and high in pitch. Rubbing his forehead again, he asked himself, “what the hell?”</p><p>Again, his voice sounded different.</p><p>Forcing himself to sit upright, Thomas blearing looking around until he spotted a mirror. He rolled his body, and collapsed onto the floor with a grunt, and crawled along the carpet like a snake. It was foolish, but he couldn’t make sense of his whereabouts or fully concentrate on his movements. He just needed to look in the mirror.</p><p>There, in his reflection…but it wasn’t his reflection. In the mirror, he saw a pale young woman. She had similar colouring to him; pale skin with black hair, and grey-blue eyes. She was attractive, perhaps even beautiful. She looked ill, however. A little gaunt.</p><p>“Who are you?” Thomas asked, but it was the woman’s mouth that moved.</p><p>It was the woman who tilted her head. It was the woman who reached up to touch her forehead at the same time as Thomas. It was the woman who gasped. It was the woman that crawled backwards in fear.</p><p>It was the woman who screamed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Impossible Circumstances</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It is undeniable that Thomas is a woman, and he doesn't cope with this fact well.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thomas ran to the door and flung it open with all the force he could muster. Panicking, he ran carelessly to the left, limbs flailing when he almost tripped over a bump in the hallway runner. The familiar surroundings told him that he was in Downton, but he wasn’t sure exactly where he was in the house or why he had awoken in one of the guest rooms. Most importantly of all, he didn’t know why his body was different.</p><p>“<em>It’s a dream</em>,” whispered his subconscious. “<em>It’s a dream</em>; this<em> isn’t real</em>.”</p><p>Panting heavily, he raced through the halls, desperate to find his bedroom. If he returned there, he could climb into bed and sleep, hoping to awaken in the correct body come morning. It wasn’t possible to switch places with someone else. He couldn’t switch places with a woman. Perhaps it was a ghost in the mirror reflection. The servant’s often told ghost stories. Thomas used to join in, inventing a whole cast of spectres to frighten to younger staff. They might be true, and he might have seen the spirit of a long-dead relative, someone who had passed in the old house.</p><p>“I’m not a woman,” he assured himself. “It’s not possible!”</p><p>If it wasn’t so, why was he lighter on his feet? Why did he feel smaller, and why was his chest bouncing so uncomfortably as he ran? Why did long, tangled hair cling to his neck, and why did his breath sound so different?</p><p>“Why am I wearing a fucking dress?” he hissed when suddenly, he caught sight of his reflection in a mirror.</p><p>The woman back and the woman was surely him. She had his eyes. Those strange, grey eyes that were so familiar to him. Those eyes belonged to his mother, and she had passed them down unto him at birth. Those eyes were his, and they were staring back through the mirror, unblinking. Yet those eyes were placed on a different face, and it just wasn’t possible.</p><p>Realising he was about to collide with the wall, Thomas skidded to an abrupt halt and watched as the woman in the mirror trip over a bump in the hallway runner, just as he tumbled to the ground too. Crashing onto the floor, his knees cracked as they collided with the hard floor. It was painful, and he lay on the floor, groaning.</p><p>“What on earth are you doing?” A woman asked sharply, and to Thomas’s horror, he turned his head to find Lady Mary glaring at him with wide, startled eyes.</p><p>Humiliated at being caught lying on the ground after fleeing around the house like a bedlam escapee, Thomas scrambled to find his footing. Jumping up to face her, he winced when a shooting pain ran down his legs.</p><p>“Lady Mary?” He croaked, and a flush of hot shame washed over him. The harsh judgement written across Lady Mary’s face reminded him of his father, as he had often looked at Thomas that way when he was a child. He hadn’t thought about his father for a long time.</p><p>“I ask again,” Lady Mary said sternly. “What are you doing?”</p><p>Thomas stammered and tried to explain, “I woke up…and I didn’t know where I was – “</p><p>“If you’ve taken anything,” she interrupted him coldly, “I’d hand it to me now. The doors are all locked, and so are the windows. It won’t be easy for you to escape.”</p><p>Thomas’s mouth fell open, and he stared at her in shock. Her accusation was not only incredibly insulting but also caught him off-guard.</p><p>“I haven’t taken a thing!” he spat. Remembering who he was speaking too, Thomas stood up straighter and addressed her more politely. “Sorry, I meant…my lady, I haven’t taken anything if you think I’m stealing.”</p><p>Raking her dark eyes over his shivering body, Mary regarded him with suspicion. Upon seeing that his hands were empty, and it was unlikely Thomas had hidden anything beneath his nightdress, her expression softened.</p><p>“I’m going to fetch our housekeeper, Mrs Hughes,” she explained calmly. Looking Thomas up and down again, she asked, “Are you alright? You were lying on the floor.”</p><p>“Uh, yes…I apologise,” Thomas mumbled bashfully. He rambled, “I was running around in a panic, unsure of my surroundings because I awakened in a strange room, and I fell here when I saw myself in the mirror -”</p><p>Lady Mary cut him off and said that she understood. She questioned if Thomas felt he needed medical attention to which he shook his head, certain that nothing was fractured or broken.</p><p>“You will need to return to your guestroom,” said Mary. “I’m shocked that you didn’t wake the entire house. I heard you running around and feared something had happened.”</p><p>“I am sorry,” Thomas apologised, his cheeks flushing once more as he followed her down the corridor.</p><p>“Also,” said Mary, “I don’t know your name. Who are you?”</p><p>With that, Thomas’s heart sunk. It occurred to him that he had not been addressed as Barrow, and Mary did not order him to return to the male servant’s quarters. She hadn’t threatened to call for Carson, explaining instead that she was going to fetch the housekeeper, Mrs Hughes. That only meant…</p><p>“Oh god,” Thomas whispered.</p><p>Mary peered at him over her shoulder, her eyebrows knitted tightly together. She stopped and turned to face him properly, folding her arms over her chest.</p><p>“What’s the matter?” She asked in a low voice. “Are you in trouble, or have you done something? Do you remember how you got here?”</p><p>Swallowing a lump in his throat, Thomas muttered, “I woke up in a guestroom and I…and everything is very strange.”</p><p>Mary exhaled through her nose but didn’t comment; instead, she nodded her head.</p><p>“If I told you what was really happening,” he continued, “I’m afraid you’d think I was mad.”</p><p>“Oh dear,” Mary said darkly, narrowing her eyes. “That’s rather concerning.”</p><p>“I – I’m not trying to cause any trouble,” Thomas stammered, beginning to feel quite desperate. “I could be dreaming but, Lady Mary, I…I can’t tell you who I am.”</p><p>The young woman’s eyes widened rather comically, and under a different circumstance, Thomas might have sniggered. She took a step back and pulled her folded arms closer to her body, as though shielding herself.</p><p>“Once you return to your room, I will fetch Mrs Hughes”, she said. “Please, hurry inside. Again, I wouldn’t attempt any tricks.”</p><p>“Don’t worry,” Thomas replied meekly. “I won’t do anything.”</p><p>Mary stuck her chin out haughtily and turned on her heel to lead Thomas back to the guestroom he was assigned. They crept silently along the dark hallway, careful not to wake anyone else. Thomas jumped whenever he heard a creak, and Mary shushed him on two occasions when he stumbled over his feet. It was strange adjusting to a body that was smaller and lighter than his own, and he hoped he could wake up soon so everything could return to normal.</p><p>Opening the bedroom door, she nodded for Thomas to enter. He scurried past her and noticed for the first time that he was now a tad shorter than she was, and it was unusual to see her face from a slightly lower angle.</p><p>“As I said, you are to remain here,” she ordered, speaking to Thomas as though he was a child. “If I return to find that you are missing, you will be in a lot of trouble.</p><p>“I’m not a thief or anything,” he assured her, but he knew there was nothing he could say that would make her any less suspicious. In his current predicament, he was a stranger to her.</p><p>“You should get into bed,” she continued, ignoring his comment. “You look rather unwell.”</p><p>Thomas nodded and did as he was instructed. As he made his way to the bed, Lady Mary quickly left and closed the door. Alone again, he waited a few seconds in case Mary returned before hurrying over to the mirror to check his reflection again.</p><p>To his horror, his reflection still showed the face of a woman. His cheeks had lost some of its sharpness, although his high cheekbones were still striking. His jawline was softer, and his lips were a little smaller and fuller. His nose appeared the same, but his eyebrows were different. They were thinner than they used to be. The only features that were truly unchanged were his eyes. Indeed, they had not changed. He was still as pale as he used to be, and his hair was still black.</p><p>“How is this possible?” He marvelled as he lifted his hands to feel his face. His skin was smooth, and there was no stubble on his chin. Running his fingertips downwards, touching his swanlike neck, he found the skin soft to touch, and his collarbones protruded more.</p><p>Feeling his body was like an otherworldly experience. It simply wasn’t possible that he had swapped bodies with a woman yet there, staring back at him from the mirror, was the reflection of an attractive female. He was rather pretty, even he could admit it.</p><p>“Utterly bizarre,” he whispered when suddenly, he was overcome by a sudden urge to feel another area of his body.</p><p>Biting his lip, he swallowed nervously and tucked his chin, looking down at himself. Squeezing his eyes shut, he lifted hands again and slowly, ever so slowly, raised them…and plopped them onto his chest. He had…breasts.</p><p>
  <em>“Oh, sodding hell!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>~ </p><p> </p><p>Some metres away, comfortably nestled in her bed; Elsie Hughes slept peacefully. After such a hectic day, sleep had hit her like the falling of an axe. Dreaming soundly, she didn’t hear the sharp knocks on her bedroom door. It wasn’t until she was shaken awake that she opened her eyes, crying out in shock.</p><p>“What?” She wheezed. “What on earth?”</p><p>Shockingly, it was Lady Mary who had awakened her.</p><p>“Mrs Hughes,” She whispered. “I’m so sorry, but the young woman who was brought here. She’s awake and was running around the house, and she said she cannot tell us who she is.”</p><p>“I’m sorry?” said Mrs Hughes. She was gobsmacked and still half asleep.</p><p>“There’s something strange about her,” Mary whispered urgently. “I don’t trust her.”</p><p>Almost tumbling out of bed, the housekeeper hurried to wrap her robe around her nightdress. Turning back to Lady Mary, who appeared quite shaken, she offered a small, reassuring smile.</p><p>“Right.” She said quietly. “I’ll see to her.”</p><p>“I’m coming with you,” Mary declared. “If needs be, I’ll wake Carson, and we’ll call the police.”</p><p>“Very well,” the housekeeper agreed. “Let’s hope there’s no need for all that.”</p><p>The two women hurried to the guestroom as quietly as they could. Whenever they passed a window, Mary glanced out to look at the bright full moon that hung in the black sky, its presence rather foreboding. Something was amiss, and she suspected that it all had something to do with the mysterious young woman with familiar grey eyes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Poppy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mary fetches Mrs Hughes, and Thomas is forced to create a new identity for himself.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'll be honest and say that I'm not a fan of this chapter. It was a pain to write, and I'm glad it's over and done with. As an LGBTQ+ person, it's also quite uncomfortable to write about homophobic attitudes.</p><p>The story will start picking up pace soon, and Thomas will be reunited with Jimmy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anxious and alone, Thomas tapped his fingers against the heavy bedsheets, impatiently awaiting the return of Lady Mary. He wondered what Mrs Hughes would say, and what she would do. Was he going to be thrown from the house? Would the housekeeper look at his face and see a resemblance to his true self – his <em>male</em> self? His eyes were the same. Would she look into his eyes and see Thomas? Would he magically return to his male form?</p><p>“Oh god,” he groaned in frustration and threw himself backwards.</p><p>Closing his eyes, he rubbed his fingers along the cotton sheets. Pressing a cheek to the cool, soft pillows, he tried to clear his mind of all thought. There was no use in panicking. He might as well try to relax so that he didn’t make a fool of himself in front of the two women. He had once overheard the cook, Mrs Patmore, proclaim that it was important to appreciate the little things in life, as she put it. If there was something, Thomas could appreciate in the disastrous, impossible predicament of awakening to find oneself had swapped bodies with a woman, that he had the opportunity to lie on a luxurious bed. A fine bed such as this, irresistibly soft and warm, had been off-limits to him. A poor, working-class man could never rest on something as fine as this and collapsing onto the mattress had felt like a billowing cloud. He could get used to this, or he could if he were in the correct body.</p><p>Just as sleep began to beckon him into the land of dreams, the bedroom door opened, and he heard familiar footsteps. The first to enter was a frazzled Mrs Hughes, followed by Lady Mary.</p><p>“Mrs Hughes!” Thomas greeted her, and he froze when the woman’s eyes widened in surprise.</p><p>“You know my name?” Asked the housekeeper, whose eyebrows had risen so high, they almost disappeared into her hairline.</p><p>Thomas realised that he hadn’t properly looked over Mrs Hughes in a long time. He had been wrapped up in his own problems, worrying about his job, his feelings for Jimmy, Miss O’Brien. He knew he was selfish, but sometimes it surprised him to realise how truly self-absorbed he was. The housekeeper was beginning to age. She was more wrinkled, and strands of grey hairs framed her weary face. His observations made Thomas aware of his own mortality. He wasn’t young anymore, either. He wasn’t a boyish footman. He was a man nearing his mid-thirties.</p><p>“Our guest also knew my name,” Mary chimed in, her voice laced with suspicion, and Thomas was brought out of his thoughts and into the present.</p><p>Swallowing, and it dawned on him that, in his current state, he was a stranger to the women. They didn’t recognise him. He couldn’t lie that he was a maid or a farmer’s daughter, and there was no way he could try to pass himself off as a former guest since it was clear he wasn’t of the aristocracy. Thinking quickly, Thomas racked his brain and remembered that Mary had mentioned Mrs Hughes name.</p><p>“Lady Mary said she would fetch Mrs Hughes, the housekeeper,” Thomas replied, and he was relieved to hear how steady his voice sounded, “so I naturally assumed that you are she?”</p><p>A memory flashed behind his eyes, and a hazy vision of a weathered hand, placing a bowl of warm water next to his bed came into view. Mrs Hughes must have cared for him, and Thomas was certain she had placed a rag on his forehead at one point so that he may have been feverish. It would explain why he felt a little unwell and why he was in a guestroom. He must have been found and was sent to this room.</p><p>“<em>Why this bedroom and not the hospital?”</em> He wondered, frowning as he pondered different possibilities and scenarios.</p><p>“I am Mrs Hughes, yes,” the older woman answered as she walked towards him. “I’m the housekeeper here – “</p><p>“My memory is coming back a little. You were in this room with me earlier, weren’t you, Mrs Hughes?” Thomas questioned, raising his eyes to meet her gaze. He stared intently, and a small part of him hoped that she would recognise him – to find something of his real self in this strange body.</p><p>She did not.</p><p>“Well, that’s a good sign,” she replied, and Thomas had to resist the urge to groan in frustration. She stopped at the foot of the bed and behind her, Lady Mary tilted her head curiously, still frowning. Mrs Hughes asked, “Do you remember anything else? How you found your way to the house?”</p><p>“And your purpose for entering the grounds?” Mary piped up. Her tone of voice was considerably harsher.</p><p>Thomas let out a ragged breath. He was prone to lying to get himself out of difficult situations, so this should have been easy. Whenever he felt threatened, he lied and manipulated his way out of a situation, or he fled. It didn’t make him a good man, and he knew he was no saint, but what many didn’t understand was that he had so much to lose. Sometimes, other people needed to be put in their place. Thomas had to look out for him and himself alone. He couldn’t trust others. Whenever he put his trust in someone, they always let him down. He trusted O’Brien and loved Jimmy, and thought his feelings were reciprocated by the latter. He thought he finally had a chance to find happiness. He thought he wouldn’t be alone anymore, and he could be like everyone else. He thought he belonged to someone.</p><p>With a heavy heart, he wisely concluded that there was no way he could create a lie in his current situation. He couldn’t tell the truth because they’d think him mad, but he couldn’t fabricate a story either.</p><p>“I just…found myself here, I suppose,” he said softly.</p><p>Mary opened her mouth to speak, but Mrs Hughes talked over her. It was accidental as a servant would never dare to speak over their employer. Mary understood and immediately fell silent while the housekeeper spoke.</p><p>“Can you tell us your name, at the very least?” Asked Mrs Hughes.</p><p>Thomas panicked and floundered for an answer. To give himself time to think of a name, he created a diversion and pointed to the corner of the room, crying, “Oh, is that a <em>spider?”</em></p><p>Mary immediately turned, jumping slightly, while the housekeeper gaped at him. Opening and closing her mouth, she looked around to investigate, obviously finding nothing. He only had seconds, and Thomas’s eyes darted around the room for inspiration. His mind was blank, and he couldn’t think of a name that wasn’t already taken by a member of the household. Just as the women turned to face him once more, Thomas spotted a small picture frame that was decorated with flowers. Inside, was a sketch of a garden. A red flower stood out to him the most. Looking back at the two women, he smiled with mock innocence.</p><p>“Sorry,” he apologised sweetly, and he noticed that his new, feminine sounding voice made him appear more sincere than ever, which could serve useful. He explained, “I hate spiders, you see. They’re beastly things”.</p><p>Mary and Mrs Hughes stole a glance at one another, both confused.</p><p>Thomas continued, “My name is Poppy. Poppy Smith.”</p><p>
  <em>Poppy Smith.</em>
</p><p>Mary’s expression remained rather stony, but the housekeeper's gaze softened.</p><p>“Well,” said Mrs Hughes, “I’m glad you didn’t hit your head so hard that you forgot who you are.”</p><p>Behind her, distrustful as ever, Mary was evidently unconvinced. Thomas ignored her and made sure to only look at Mrs Hughes.</p><p>“I hit my head?” He asked, still feigning innocence. “That explains why I have a headache.”</p><p>“And perhaps why you were running about?” Said Mary, drawing herself a little taller. As well as suspicious, she also looked bored and exhausted. It seemed she was ready to return to bed.</p><p>Mrs Hughes thought the same and looked between them.</p><p>“It’s very late,” she said while Mary discreetly stifled a yawn. “This is enough excitement for one night.” Looking directly at Thomas she said, “You, in particular, need to rest, Miss Smith”.</p><p>“If we leave, I hope you won’t take yourself for another run,” Mary drawled and gave him a reproachful look.</p><p>Thomas offered a bashful smile and replied, "I'm sorry about that, my lady. My head doesn't feel as foggy as it was earlier. I promise I'll stay put. I was in an awful panic earlier."</p><p>Without sympathy, Mary raised an eyebrow and remarked, "See to it that you do."</p><p>Mrs Hughes approached him and placed a cool, wrinkled hand against his forehead. She nodded and stood back once more.</p><p>"You aren’t feverish anymore either," she said. "You have water by your bed, should you need it. I would recommend that you keep drinking. Dr Clarkson looked you over, and he said you need to intake fluids. Most of all, you need rest."</p><p>"Yes, Mrs Hughes."</p><p>"Well, make sure you get some sleep," she said strictly, placing her hands behind her back like a school teacher. “Dr Clarkson will return to see you in the morning, and we will need to decide what to do with you.”</p><p>He nodded and watched as the two women took their leave. Mary left without so much as a second glance, but Mrs Hughes bid him goodnight. She sternly repeated that he ought to sleep and not to leave the room. Thomas turned off the bedside lamp that was next to him and lay down. The bed was heavenly, and it was such a treat to lie on such a soft mattress. He closed his eyes and tried to rest, but his mind was abuzz with anxious thoughts.</p><p>“But what is going to happen?” He wondered. “When am I going to change back? Can I change? Will I be a woman forever?”</p><p>He tossed and turned, shifting around in the bed as worry after worry plagued him. Soon, an hour passed, and Thomas was still wide awake. He smashed his face into the plump pillow and let his anger out on the sheets, smashing his fists against them like a petulant toddler.</p><p>“I don’t know what to fucking do!” He cried into the pillow. “What do I do?”</p><p>He then sat upright and sighed loudly.</p><p>Falling silent, he closed his eyes. He could hear his sharp breaths, and his heart rate had accelerated during his brief temper tantrum. Taking deep breaths to calm himself, he tried to clear his mind. A memory came back to him from long ago; the words of Father Todd. The kind man whom Thomas had been fond of as a small boy.</p><p>“In stillness, we can reach God. Close your mouth and open your ears. You will hear him.”</p><p>Thomas repeated the words solemnly, mumbling like a man in prayer. He was not a believer. He didn’t even believe when he was a child as the existence of an omnipotent higher power seemed imaginable. It couldn’t possibly be true.</p><p>“What if there is?” He whispered. “How else did I end up like this?”</p><p>Once more, his mind reeled with possibilities. Perhaps his current predicament was punishment for all his wrongdoings. Or was he being punished for his unnatural desires? They had never felt unnatural. In fact, his attraction to men had always felt the very opposite. It made sense to him. Was it so wrong to love other men? Is that why God made him into a woman? Or was it the devil?</p><p>A cold breeze ghosted over his body, and Thomas shuddered as goose pimples rose on his skin. Compelled to look behind him, he observed the bright moon through a gap in the heavy curtains. It drew him closer, and Thomas slid from the bed and walked towards the window with the obedience of a dazed man walking toward God himself. If the Lord was ever-present then, did he reveal his presence by illuminating the night with the moon and the stars? Were they watching over Thomas?</p><p>Teary and wide-eyed, Thomas fell to his knees before the window, never taking his eyes off the bright moon.</p><p>“Is this punishment?” He whispered, clasping his hands together as he used to in church. “Am I damned?”</p><p>Suddenly, the wind roared, and a heavy gust howled against the window, making its panes shake. Frightened, Thomas cried out and crawled backwards, scrambling to move away from the glass. Again, the window howled, and the wooden frames shook, and Thomas feared it was going to collapse.</p><p>“Oh, no!” He screeched and flung his hands over his face when, out of nowhere, a bright glow shone down on him. He didn’t remove his hands, but the light was brilliant and blinding. It was white and warm, and strangely, it felt comforting, like a pair of hands was enclosing around his body.</p><p>Panting, Thomas brought his knees to chest and curled in on himself, still fearful despite how soothing and warm the light around him felt.</p><p>“Ahh!” He cried, clinging to himself more tightly. He pleaded, “please stop.”</p><p>The light around him burst into a yellow glow, and a rush of hot air blew past Thomas, knocking him to the ground. It felt as though he was in a suction, and he tried to grip hold of the carpet, hanging on for dear life as air rushed past him, making it hard to breathe. He couldn’t see anything but knew the curtains were dancing wildly because the heavy material flickered against his feet. He cried out again, trying to breathe when, as soon as it had come, the glow disappeared within an instant.</p><p>The light faded. The bedroom came back into view. Outside, the moon shone brightly once more.</p><p>Lying face down on the ground, Thomas caught his breath. He was frozen still, traumatised by what had just occurred. He cried out once more, but his voice was small and meek. He could see his hand, he stretched out his slim fingers, sweeping them across the carpeted floor. Slowly moving his other limbs, Thomas began to compose himself. Heaving his body upwards, he stood on shaky legs and looked at the moon. To great insult, he felt as though it was smirking at him, but that may have been his imagination.</p><p>He also noted that one of the windows had opened.</p><p>Reaching out a nervous hand, he closed it carefully and collapsed against the cool glass. Exhausted and scared, he gently knocked his head against the glass and remained there for a few moments. Shifting his posture slightly, Thomas’s left foot brushed against something soft. Looking down, he saw a poppy – a real poppy. It was big and red and beautiful. He brushed its soft petals with his toe and considered it with interest. He wondered how it had gotten there for there were no poppy fields around Downton.</p><p>Sinking to his knees before it, Thomas carefully scooped the flower into his small hands.</p><p>“What the hell is happening?” He asked it.</p><p>.He received no answer</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading. I hope you are enjoying this story.<br/>I apologise for the short chapters, but I don't have a lot of time to write at the moment. I will try to write longer chapters for the next instalments.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Gaining An Ally</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Thomas cannot navigate Downton in a female form on his own, so he decides to tell someone the truth.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I whipped this chapter up quicker than I expected. I intended for this to be longer, but I feel like I found a good place to stop before the story starts to get juicier. I hope you don't mind that this story took a few chapters to get going,</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jimmy wasn’t sure how long he had been walking as he had no watch the track the time. He wasn’t certain of his location either, only that he was in a warm, woodland area. The dirt at his feet was made up of various brown hues; the differences magnified by the moisture. Mingled in are some small stones, adding their greys to the mosaic beneath his feet. The dense trees surrounding him were sage over the bark, kissed with moss. Their shaded sides grew lichen as if flung there like powdered paint, so their colour so pastel that they were close to white.</p><p>“How much further?” he wondered when suddenly, he saw an opening in the trees.</p><p>Running towards it, he gasped when a meadow came into view. Before him lay a glorious expanse of grass peppered with delicate flowers gently rustling in the breeze. A narrow brook trickled past his feet, choked with weeds. Tall water-mint grew beside it, with pale lilac flowers. There was a shallow ditch at the edge of the meadow. There, the grass was thick and lush, growing in dense clusters. A tall, wise-looking oak tree provided sun-flecked shade; a cool and refreshing respite from the bright sun rays.</p><p>“Blimey,” Jimmy whispered in amazement. The meadow was lovely and had a magical quality to it. If a mythical creature or a witch appeared, it wouldn’t have shocked him.</p><p>He caught sight of something startlingly red amongst the dense green grass. Squinting, he saw that it was a unique flower: a bright, pretty poppy.</p><p>Opening his mouth to speak, he was shocked to hear a strange sound escape his lips. It sounded like a fist pounding against a wooden door.</p><p>“Jimmy! You’ll be late for breakfast!”</p><p> Awoken from his wonderful dream, Jimmy rolled out of bed and crashed onto the floor, swearing when his knee hit the hardwood. He scrambled around, throwing on his uniform carelessly so he could dash out of the door and into the bathroom. Five minutes later, his face was red and scrubbed, and his teeth were clean. Rearranging his uniform on the stairs, he paused to catch his breath, resting his weight against the wall. Mr Carson would tell him off, and he may give Jimmy extra polishing duties for his tardiness. He then thought of the vivid poppy he had seen in his dream and wondered if it was an omen of some kind. He'd never dreamt of flowers before. He wasn't even particularly fond of the countryside, preferring bustling towns and cities to quiet rural life. He had no time to dwell on it, so he hurried down the stairs, silently cursing himself for oversleeping.</p><p> Rushing into the servant’s hall, Jimmy ran a hand through his curls to try and tame his hair. Ignoring Alfred’s snigger, he apologised to Mr Carson when he scolded him for being late. The others were tucking into their breakfast, their voices bubbling like a mountain river. As he slid into his seat, Ivy appeared with fresh bread. As she laid the baked goods in the centre of the table, she threw Jimmy a coy smile before hurrying away back to the kitchen.</p><p>“The family doesn’t seem to be in a rush to get up this morning,” Mr Bates noted, looking at the butler.</p><p>“After the excitement with our guest yesterday,” Mrs Hughes answered, “I imagine we’re all a little worn out.”</p><p>“Speaking of our guest,” said Mr Carson, “Dr Clarkson is stopping by at ten o’clock. It isn’t our business to interfere with his work, so I don’t want anyone loitering around and gawking.”</p><p>“Is the lady alright, Mrs Hughes?” Edna asked. She was the new housemaid, attractive but sly. There was something about the glint in her eye that was rather unsettling, and not many of the servants had warmed to her.</p><p>“Funny coincidence, isn’t it?” Miss O’Brien chimed in. “Mr Barrow runs off without so much as a goodbye, and a stranger turns up the next morning -”</p><p>“How do you know Mr Barrow ran off?” Mr Bates interrupted. His tone was calm, but he eyed her with suspicion. “What if he had a family emergency?”</p><p>Miss O’Brien scoffed and snapped, “If it were a family emergency, he’d of mentioned something to Mr Carson and had permission to take leave.”</p><p>Unable to help himself, Alfred blurted out, “He did run because –“</p><p>“That is enough!” Mr Carson cut him off sharply, glaring at everyone around the table.</p><p>As the others hung their heads, Jimmy gripped hold of his chair and stared at the wall in front of him as his blood ran cold. Alfred had walked in on Thomas when he stooped down to kiss Jimmy. He’d witnessed the entire incident, and he had tried to encourage Jimmy to turn Thomas over to the police. Jimmy just wanted him gone. He didn’t want a fuss. He didn’t want anyone to know and suspect him of being immoral as well. He would be thrown out of the house as well if the truth got out, and he’d never find another job or a wife. His life would be over.</p><p>“Mr Barrow’s disappearance is a strange and concerning matter. However, it will not be the subject of gossip.” Carson warned the staff.</p><p>“Thank you, Mr Carson,” Jimmy mumbled, and he received confused glances from Miss O’Brien and Alfred.</p><p>Ignoring them, he reached forward and picked one of the fresh bread rolls. It was still warm, and he brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply. It smelled good, promising a delightful taste. Picking up a knife, he applied copious amounts of creamy butter then spooned out a dollop of tangy blackberry jam to spread on top. He slathered the bread in the sweet mixture, he ripped off a chunk and stuffed the piece into his mouth, chewing aggressively. It was soft and warm, but somehow, it tasted of nothing. It became a grey mush in his mouth.</p><p>The other servants chatted around him, but Jimmy couldn’t make out their conversations. He noticed Mr Bates looking at him strangely, but he quickly averted his gaze. He remained lost in thought until a couple of servants caught his attention.</p><p>“I heard the girl that was found yesterday is pretty," whispered one of the hall boys.</p><p>"She is," replied a maid, and she lowered her voice, "but did you hear that she when a groundskeeper found her, she was wearing a <em>man's uniform?</em>"</p><p>"A man's uniform," the boy repeated, shocked by the news.</p><p>"Yes," the maid muttered, quickly looking at Mr Carson to make sure he couldn't hear her. "Apparently, it was a uniform from here. A footman's livery!"</p><p>"Shh," Anna hissed to quieten the two young servants. She warned, "Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes have said we are not to discuss the young lady."</p><p>"Indeed," Mr Carson agreed sternly, having overheard Anna.</p><p>Before he could say anything else, the bell for Mr Crawley and Lady Mary's room rang out, shrill and loud.</p><p>"And the day begins," Miss O'Brien drawled.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Later that morning, Dr Clarkson arrived to see the mysterious Poppy Smith. Once Mrs Hughes informed him of the young woman's identity, the doctor frowned and told her, "I'm not certain she is from this area. I've never heard of her before, and the Smith family in the village have a daughter, but her name is Eleanor."</p><p>When he stood in front of Poppy Smith, he looked her over and tried to remember if he had treated her in the past. She certainly didn't look familiar, although he recognised her eyes.</p><p>"Well, you're conscious today, which is a good sign, of course," he said. "You're still a little too warm, but your fever has passed. Do you feel lightheaded or dizzy?"</p><p>The young woman answered, "I feel a bit...strange, but I don't feel as dizzy as I did last night."</p><p>"Hmm," the doctor hummed, concerned that she was still under the weather. "Well, you don't require immediate medical care, only bed rest and fluids. Where you will rest will be determined by Lord Grantham. I could move you to the hospital in the village."</p><p>"I admit," the woman began, blinking up at him with large, pleading eyes, "that I can't remember why I found myself here, and I have nowhere to go."</p><p>The doctor's eyes widened, and he said, "That isn't good. If you have memory loss from your head injury -"</p><p>"I mean," she interrupted, "I escaped my family home because my father was a very unkind man, and my mother is dead. I've come a long way from home, and I suppose I was fleeing. Now I'm here."</p><p>It wasn't a full lie on the young woman's behalf because unknown to the good doctor, the young woman was Thomas Barrow, and Thomas did leave his family home after his mother died. He no longer had a protector, and his father threw him out when he was thirteen after he caught Thomas kissing a friend. He sent Thomas to work in a large house as a hall boy and wrote to tell his young son not to contact him again, and never to return home. His sister had long left the family home to work as she was older. Thomas did not know where she was, so he couldn't write to her and ask for help.</p><p>Thomas didn't know what he would do about his unfortunate and very bizarre predicament, but he knew he needed to remain at Downton. If his memory loss appeared to sever, he would be sent to hospital - possibly even moved to London or an institution where he could be examined by 'experts'. At the same time, if he appeared too healthy, he would be forced to leave the house. If only this had happened just as Ethel was removed from the house. He could have applied for her position and stayed on as a maid, which would have bought him some time at the very least. He wasn't sure if another position within the household staff was available. Even his own job was at risk now that Bates had returned.</p><p>Thomas decided that he needed to put on a damn good show if he was going to stay. When he was a small child, he rather enjoyed playing make-believe and acting out scenes from Shakespeare for his mother. He never did make it to the stage, but now was his chance.</p><p>Rather dramatically, Thomas let his body go limp. He blinked repeatedly and made his vision as blurry as possible. Swaying slightly, he tried to mimic being drunk and whispered, "oh, doctor, I feel a little faint..."</p><p>"Miss Smith!" Dr Clarkson cried as he lunged forward to take hold of her shoulders.</p><p>A bout of genuine anxiety overtook Thomas as he was desperate to put on a believable show, and he began to sweat slightly. His cheeks warmed, and he even began to feel a little dizzy.</p><p>"Is this method acting?" He thought to himself.</p><p>And with that, he pretended to faint. Keeping himself very still and controlling his breathing, he listened as Dr Clarkson fussed over him. He was shaken and, soon, a cold hand was pressed against his forehead. The doctor pulled out some smelling salts, and it took all of Thomas's willpower not to scrunch up his nose or cough in disgust. It took so much energy that he was left completely drained, and he rather pleased with himself. He didn't feel good, but it was working.</p><p>"I should be in films," he praised himself silently, and it was lucky that the Doctor was rummaging in his bag when Thomas smirked.</p><p>He heard the door open, and Mrs Hughes calling out, "Do you need anything, Dr Clarkson - oh, good heavens!"</p><p>The door shut, and he heard the housekeeper hurry over to his bed.</p><p>"Is she still unwell?" Mrs Hughes asked, shocked by Thomas's fainting spell. "She was alert this morning when I checked on her before breakfast."</p><p>Dr Clarkson sighed and replied, "She doesn't seem to have memory loss. When I spoke to her, she told me that she had fled her family home because her mother has passed, and her father is unkind, apparently. She isn't a girl, so I would have thought she might have been married."</p><p>"Perhaps she's needed to care for her mother?" Mrs Hughes suggested, and she sounded sympathetic. "Worry and stress can age a person. She might be younger than we think. So, did she say that's why she was running around in the night?"</p><p>"Yes," said the doctor. "But it doesn't explain why she is here, and it doesn't explain why she found in a footman's uniform."</p><p>Flummoxed, Mrs Hughes spluttered something incoherent.</p><p>"Do you think her uniform did belong to Mr Barrow?" Dr Clarkson asked. "Maybe he found her when she ran away, and perhaps she was in a state. He might have given her his uniform if he was wearing his ordinary clothes."</p><p>"But why would Thomas have fled with his uniform?"</p><p>The doctor pondered this and eventually said, "Yes, that's a good point. We're all baffled, and this is all very strange."</p><p>"Does she need anything, doctor?"</p><p>"I think she still needs rest. I can move her to my clinic, but if she continues to faint, I will ask to transfer her to another hospital where experts can treat her. Her head injury could be causing this. For now, I will assume she's still slightly feverish and needs plenty of rest."</p><p>"I'll speak to Mr Carson now, and he will ask Lord Grantham how he wants to proceed," said the housekeeper. "He's keen to keep her here in case she knows anything about Mr Barrow's whereabouts."</p><p>"I'll look her over once more, and I'll come with you to see Carson."</p><p>The doctor and housekeeper left the room, and Thomas immediately coughed, gasping for breath. Spluttering, he slowly sat up and looked around helplessly. His eyes were drawn to the window, and he remembered the strange occurrence from the previous night where a strange, bright light had encompassed him. He wondered what on earth that was about, and whether he had dreamed it. Looking to the right, he stared at the large, red poppy that manifested at his feet, seemingly from nowhere. Edging himself off the bed, Thomas carefully stood up and crossed the room. Carefully picking up the flower, he inspected the poppy. It felt real. Its petals were soft and delicate to touch, and there was nothing peculiar about its stalk. Twirling it around in his fingers, he hummed, curiously watching the flower dance. </p><p>"I wonder where you came from." He whispered.</p><p>There were voices in the hall, and one sounded like Lady Grantham. Panicking, Thomas fled to the other side of the room and quickly threw the beautiful poppy under the bed. He scrambled to climb onto it and promptly rearranged himself into a similar position that Dr Clarkson and Mrs Hughes had last seen him. Closing his eyes, he made his body go limp just as the bedroom door creaked open.</p><p>"I'll check her breathing," Dr Clarkson explained in a quiet voice, "although, as she needs rest, I'm hesitant to wake her if she is sleeping. I'd prefer her to wake naturally."</p><p>"Of course," Lady Grantham whispered. Thomas could imagine her smiling sympathetically, as she often did. She was a kind and gracious woman with gentle eyes.</p><p>Thomas held his breath when he sensed the doctor approached the bed, and he held himself as still as possible when a hand was placed on his forehead.</p><p>"Yes," said the doctor, "she's still quite warm. When she wakes up - and it may be a while - give me a call, and I'll return to check on her. I want to find out how much damage her head injury has caused."</p><p>"Does she have memory loss?" Lady Grantham asked in a low voice.</p><p>"I'm concerned that she may have short term memory loss as she expressed to me that she remembers why she was wandering alone - her family situation, as I explained," replied Dr Clarkson. "But she said that she doesn't remember how she got here. She only knows that she fled from home."</p><p>"The poor dear," Lady Grantham said sorrowfully.</p><p>"But that doesn't explain why she arrived in livery, seemingly that of a footman," Mrs Hughes interjected.</p><p>"Yes, you're quite right, Mrs Hughes," Lady Grantham agreed.</p><p>"Has there been any sighting of Mr Barrow?" Dr Clarkson asked. The women must have shaken their heads because Thomas next heard him reply, "Oh. Well, that is a shame. Very odd indeed."</p><p>"Shall we leave the young lady for now?" said Mrs Hughes. "If she needs rest, we might waken her."</p><p>"Oh, of course!" Lady Grantham whispered. "If you'd like to join Lord Grantham and I in the library, we can discuss what this young lady told you."</p><p>"I won't be able to stay long -"</p><p>"Oh, then it's no trouble. We're happy to allow this young lady to stay - Downton has already been a convalescence, so we have..."</p><p>And with that, the bedroom door closed. Thomas heaved a sigh of relief and rubbed his tired eyes. Sitting up again, he reached under the bed to find the poppy he had thrown underneath. While he felt around, the door suddenly opened again, startling him. With a yelp, he snapped his head up, and it collided with the side table, sending a throbbing pain through his forehead. Winching, he clasped at his head as the intruder cried out in shock, but it caused Thomas to lose his balance. With a gasp, he tumbled off the bed and crashed onto the floor with a loud 'thump'.</p><p>"Miss - Miss Smith!" Mrs Hughes spluttered.</p><p>Thomas blearily stared up at her worried face and shooed her with his hand.</p><p>"I'm fine, Mrs Hughes, honestly," he said.</p><p>"What on earth were you doing?" She asked sternly, frowning as she placed her hands on her hips. Narrowing her eyes, she asked, "Have you been pretending to be unconscious?"</p><p>Thomas winched again, this time at her harsh tone. </p><p>"Where did that come from?" The housekeeper pointed at the poppy. "I don't remember you bringing that in, and I was one of the people who changed you into a nightdress. We took your clothes so they could be washed."</p><p>"Er," Thomas mumbled guiltily. </p><p>Despite how much trouble he had caused over the years, if there was one member of staff he sincerely hated lying to, it was Mrs Hughes. He had always respected her and never liked crossing her, even when he had deemed it necessary. Carson, he never cared for, and O'Brien was an enemy now. He didn't give much thought to the smug Mr Bates. Alfred was a ninny, and Jimmy was...well, Thomas wasn't certain about his feelings towards the young man anymore. He felt remorseful and sad that he had misunderstood their relationship. Thomas longed for love, but he longed for friendship even more. He had a lot in common with Jimmy, and they shared a cynical outlook on life; understanding their duties within Downton, but also remembering that they were not friends of the Crawley family. They were here to work but were people with interests of their own, leading their own life. Sometimes, the other servants seemed to forget that their life did not solely revolve around the aristocrats on which they served, and it often frustrated both Thomas and Jimmy alike. To lose that connection and that friendship was more heartbreaking than losing a lover. Mrs Hughes was one of the few members of staff to continuously stand by Thomas, seeing him as more misguided than outright terrible. Now that he had likely lost Jimmy forever, Thomas didn’t want to lose her too should his current circumstances create a sticky situation. He needed an ally.</p><p>“Well?” The housekeeper prompted him impatiently.</p><p>Thomas signed and moved to sit back on the bed. When he faced her, he clasped his hands together and considered how he would tell her the truth. The housekeeper huffed in annoyance, and before she could chastise him, Thomas spoke.</p><p>“Mrs Hughes, do you not recognise me at all?” He asked sadly, staring into her eyes intently. “Look at my eyes. Please look! Do you not think they’re familiar? They look the same, at least. The rest of me is different.”</p><p>“What on earth do you mean?”</p><p>“Mrs Hughes, please! If you can work it out, it’ll be better than me telling you because you’ll think I’m barmy!”</p><p>The housekeeper shook her head and snapped, “This is just nonsense.”</p><p>“Mrs Hughes!” Thomas pleaded desperately. “Let me ask you a few questions then.” The woman scoffed, and at the moment, Thomas looked down at his hand. He intended to wave it in her face and compare the injury he received in the war…but it had vanished. It was gone! He wondered how he didn’t realise sooner, and it knocked him for six.</p><p>“I’m going to fetch…” Mrs Hughes began, but Thomas shouted over her.</p><p>“Wait!” He cried. “I – I was going to show you my hand, but it’s healed somehow. In this body, I don’t have an injured hand.”</p><p>“<em>In this body?”</em> The housekeeper repeated.</p><p>Her belligerent attitude towards the situation was proving most frustrating, and Thomas became more and more desperate.</p><p>“It’s me, Mrs Hughes!” He said earnestly. “Thomas. Thomas Barrow.”</p><p>“WHAT?” Mrs Hughes yelled as she took a step backwards, shaking her head. “No, this is utterly preposterous. I’m fetching the doctor!”</p><p>His window of opportunity was closing, and Thomas was now frantic. Jumping from the bed, he rushed forwards to take Mrs Hughes by the shoulders.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he cried. “But please do not fetch Dr Clarkson. Mrs Hughes, it is me. Thank about it! I arrived in men’s clothing, didn’t I? All of my possessions are still in my bedroom – you must have checked?”</p><p>The woman nodded silently and stared at him with large, frightened eyes while Thomas’s heart hammered in his chest.</p><p>“Alright,” he replied breathlessly. Composing himself, he continued, “Mrs Hughes, did you hear about what happened between me – as in, Thomas Barrow the man – and Jimmy?”</p><p>“What?” She hissed. “<em>Jimmy?”</em></p><p>“Yes, Jimmy!”</p><p>“I – I don’t understand – “</p><p>“Mrs Hughes!” Thomas whined. “Please listen. I thought Jimmy felt the same way about me as I did him, and…I kissed him.”</p><p>“<em>What?”</em></p><p>“I kissed him, Mrs Hughes!” Thomas cried as his eyes welled up with tears. “I kissed him, and Alfred walked in. Of course, they’re both furious with me, and they informed Mr Carson. I was going to be thrown out with no reference, and I imagine the police were going to be called. I ran! I ran from the house, and I was outside when a bolt of lightning struck me or something.”</p><p>“This is ridiculous!”</p><p>“But it’s true! It’s true, Mrs Hughes. It’s terrible, and it’s unimaginable – downright impossible! But even so, it happened.”</p><p>“I don’t believe it.”</p><p>Thomas sighed and shook his head sadly, and replied, “I don’t know if I fully believe it either.”</p><p>The housekeeper pushed him away and hissed, “You are a confused young lady, and you are not Thomas Barrow. I will call the doctor – “</p><p>“I hit William!” Thomas cried. “I was caught stealing wine. I went to war. I was shot in my hand, and I wore a leather glove. Now I think about it. I don’t know where that has gone.”</p><p>“Your glove was found on the grounds,” Mrs Hughes whispered. She was in complete shock, and her face was ashen. She looked rather faint.</p><p>Thomas rattled off, “I plotted against Mr Bates because I wanted to be a valet. I’ve caused a lot of trouble which you very well know, and I’ve made a lot of stupid decisions. I used to smoke with O’Brien in the courtyard. I wind the clocks every night. I taught Daisy different dances over the years. I pester Mrs Patmore to give me the scraps of desserts that I like. I tease Alfred he irritates me, and I scold Ivy for being romantic. I read every night by the fire, sitting in my favourite rocking chair. It’s the only rocking chair downstairs, but I’ve pretty much claimed it.”</p><p>“How? What?” Mrs Hughes mumbled, staring past Thomas’s shoulder.</p><p>“Ask me anything, Mrs Hughes,” Thomas said fiercely. “Ask me anything, and I will answer. I’ll prove that I am, in fact, Thomas Barrow.”</p><p>The woman swallowed and shook her head. Her shoulders drooped, and she brought up a weathered hand to rub her forehead.</p><p>“I need to sit down,” she said weakly.</p><p>Holding out his arm, Thomas watched as Mrs Hughes stare at him in disbelief. Her mouth was set in a firm line, but her eyes were wide and startled. She took his arm and allowed the woman claiming to be Thomas Barrow to lead her to an armchair. There, she sat down and put her head in her hands.</p><p>“Mrs Hughes?” Thomas said gently, and he knelt by her side to comfortingly pat her hand. He supposed his touch would be softer now that his hands were smaller.</p><p>“I don’t know what to think or say,” she muttered, shaking her head.</p><p>“Will you at least look at me?” Thomas requested, but she didn’t raise her head. “Please,” he begged again.</p><p>Eventually, she did. She searched his face without comment, and after a few agonising seconds, she nodded. She kept nodding until she rested her head in her hands once more.</p><p>“Mrs Hughes?”</p><p>“It is you, isn’t it?” She asked, and she looked at him once more.</p><p>Her eyes swept over his features again, and when she focused on his eyes, she gasped loudly. Slapping her hands to her mouth, she leaned back in the chair.</p><p>“Those are Thomas’s eyes!” She whispered, although her hands muffled her voice.</p><p>Nodding, Thomas agreed, “Yes, it is my eyes. I was frightened by my reflection at first. I thought it was a ghost in the mirror until I realised it was me. Well, it was me in a different body. That’s why I was running around last night.”</p><p>Mrs Hughes placed her hands in her lap and quietly replied, “You were running around because you got a fright.”</p><p>“Yes!” he said. “I was afraid, and I didn’t know what was happening. I thought it was a dream, and that I had to return to my own bed so I could wake up.”</p><p>“And we found a woman outside in men’s clothing…”</p><p>Thomas finished her sentence, “Because it was actually me. I was the ‘woman’ that you found. You didn’t know it was me because, somehow, I’ve swapped bodies.”</p><p>The housekeeper gawked at him in both confusion and horror. Shaking her head, she fell back into the chair again and sighed.</p><p>“If it’s any comfort,” he said tentatively. “I’m just as confused as you are. I don’t know what to do, Mrs Hughes. I could change back at any moment!”</p><p>The woman’s eyes widened further, and she bolted upright.</p><p>“I hadn’t considered that!” She said. “What if you suddenly change in front of Mr Carson or a member of the family. One of the ladies! You’ll be a man wearing a dress!”</p><p>“You’d think this was a Vaudeville pantomime,” Thomas joked, only to be frowned at by Mrs Hughes.</p><p>“Now it’s the time for jokes, Thomas.” She scolded him, but she then shifted uncomfortably. “Poppy!” She corrected herself, then winced. She mumbled, “Thomas…Poppy.”</p><p>“Um…” Thomas muttered, confused as to what the housekeeper was suggesting.</p><p>“What on should I call you?” She asked nervously. Biting her lip, she watched him apprehensively.</p><p>Shrugging, he replied, “Perhaps you could call me Thomas when we’re alone?”</p><p>The woman nodded and sighed again, and Thomas reached out to take her hand. She looked down at their joined hands and then back at him, and her expression softened somewhat. Affection for Elsie Hughes bubbled inside him, and Thomas felt the urge to embrace her like he would a mother.</p><p>“Mrs Hughes,” he said fondly. “I know I haven’t always behaved…kindly towards you or the other servants, but I want you to know that, despite everything, I never liked lying to you or angering you. I’ve always respected you.”</p><p>At this, she hummed with distrust. Raising a stern eyebrow, she asked, “I don’t believe you <em>always</em> respected me, Thomas.”</p><p>“In my own way, I did!” he replied defensively. “I promise. I just had to…go against your orders sometimes.”</p><p>“You never had to do anything, young man,” she told him firmly. “You made a choice when you chose to cause trouble.”</p><p>Her words stung, but it was impossible to hide from the truth. Nodding slowly, Thomas hung his head. It was a bitter pill to swallow. Some might think otherwise, but Thomas Barrow was not a man without feeling.</p><p>“I don’t know why you do the things you do,” Mrs Hughes said softly. She reached forward and stretched out her finger to tip Thomas’s face upward. Looking into his eyes, she confessed, “I haven’t always liked you, but I never disliked you either. I always thought O’Brien strung you along, and that she encouraged your poor behaviour.”</p><p>“She did, at first,” Thomas admitted bitterly. “But I know I’m a grown man now. At least, I am on the inside? Not so much the outside now. Look, I’ve got a chest – “</p><p>“<em>Thomas!”</em> She scolded him, but she wore a wry smile. “Honestly! Now, listen to me.”</p><p>Rolling his eyes, he nodded and sat back to listen patiently.</p><p>Mrs Hughes advised, “I think this may have happened for a reason. Perhaps by some Godly intervention, the universe decided that you need to change your behaviour. It could be a lesson for you.”</p><p>“I don’t really see how,” Thomas said sheepishly. “How can I make amends when I look like this? Nobody will know it’s me.”</p><p>Mrs Hughes shrugged and replied, “Well, perhaps there are other lessons you need to learn, and a good shake-up might help you realise this.”</p><p>Frowning, he considered her words. There was no logical or scientific explanation that Thomas knew of that could explain why and how he found himself in the body of a woman. A Godly intervention from the universe could be an explanation. He was aware that he needed to change his behaviour, and deep down, he wanted to. He had tried to do good in the past, but he always ended up burned. Burned by love or burned by death, disappointment, unfairness. It was not only his hand that once bore the mark of conflict. His body was littered with invisible scars. His heart was charred from his burnt love letters that the Duke of Crowborough had carelessly tossed into the flames. He could still see the imprint of William's fish from when he punched him. He could feel Mr Bates’s knuckles digging into to chest from when he had grabbed Thomas by the waistcoat, and pushed him against the wall. He could feel Edward Courtenay’s hand clasping his knee; a comforting promise that Thomas was a good man at heart, and a good friend. He could feel Jimmy’s soft lips against his, and they burned.</p><p>“I just…” he said quietly. “I just don’t know what looking like this is going to do.”</p><p>He looked at Mrs Hughes and found her gazing at him sadly. She was smiling sympathetically.</p><p>“Then again,” Thomas added, and he cleared his throat. “This could all be a silly dream. Maybe I hit my head, and I’m currently in bed or hospital. Maybe I’m drunk. Who knows?”</p><p>The housekeeper snorted and nodded in agreement.</p><p>“Well,” she said, “I don’t disagree with you there. Perhaps I’m the one who is dreaming.”</p><p>Thomas suggested dryly, “We could be sharing a dream. If this isn’t real, I’ll laugh about it with you tomorrow after we wake up.”</p><p>“That we will, Mr Barrow.” She replied kindly. She then stilled and asked, “Thomas, take hold of my hand again.”</p><p>Confused, he raised his eyebrow and received a nod. He shrugged and took hold of her hand again. He could feel them; her wrinkled skin beneath his fingers, and her warmth.</p><p>“I see,” he said, and he looked up at her. “I can feel you. You can feel me, can’t you? You can feel me holding your hand?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Thomas sighed deeply and let go. He ran his tongue over his teeth as he mulled over the situation.</p><p>“This isn’t a dream, Thomas.” Mrs Hughes stated. “I think this is real, and I don’t know what we are going to do with you.”</p><p>Sighing again, Thomas had to agree.</p><p>“I know, Mrs Hughes. I know.”</p><p>Words left them. Thomas stared into Mrs Hughes understanding, kind eyes once more to speak. No sound escaped his lips, and he couldn’t will them to move. As if stuck underwater, everything around him felt slow and warbled. All Thomas could do was rest his head on her lap as she ran a comforting hand through his long hair; a silent promise that, no matter what, everything would be alright.</p><p>Outside of the bedroom, Jimmy scampered along the corridor. He was in a hurry to return downstairs. Mr Carson needed him to run an errand, and he had to return from the village before eleven o’clock. He passed by the bedroom door where the mysterious guest was staying. Mrs Hughes was nowhere to be found, and he wondered if she was still attending to the young woman. Mr Carson and Mrs Patmore need to ask her a question, and Lady Grantham requested to see her. Compelled to knock on the door, he took a step forward and rested his fist on the wood. He didn’t knock. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt it was best to continue on his way. Exhaling through his nose, Jimmy walked away, but not before he glanced back at the door one final time.</p><p>Who was Poppy Smith?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>